


you make my pulse race

by Thealmostrhetoricalquestion



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First Kiss, Getting Together, Illegal Broomstick Racing, M/M, Protectiveness, Racing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 22:22:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14174619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thealmostrhetoricalquestion/pseuds/Thealmostrhetoricalquestion
Summary: James had a feeling that he shouldn’t push this. But there was something about the look in Teddy's eyes that was niggling at him, so he pushed anyway.





	you make my pulse race

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GoldenTruth813](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenTruth813/gifts).



> Happy Birthday GoldenTruth813! I realise this may not be your cup of tea, so please don't feel obligated to read it if you don't want to. It was just a little something I cooked up to celebrate your happy day, but please please please don't worry if you dislike it! I hope you've had a lovely day and been spoilt rotten, you deserve all the nice things! <3

There were magical spaces all over London. Most were signed and approved by stuffy Ministry officials in their smart robes, clutching clipboards in their talons, but not all of them were Ministry-sanctioned. There were gritty clubs that oozed magic rather than music, and strange, unchecked businesses where divine deals went down, and shops that sold other people’s dreams in jars. Deep in the cracks of society, another society lived and thrived, and sometimes, James could be persuaded to fall through them. 

It was never anything harmful. He didn’t do drugs or drink or fight or have sex, and he never took part in the bets he saw flitting around; he just had  _ fun _ . 

James surveyed his surroundings, not for the first time. It was less of a pitch and more of a track. Like a Muggle racing track, with graffitied stands all around the large oval, and all you had to do to find it was walk through a brick wall at the end of a grimy alleyway. James walked through it roughly once a month, broom in hand - a different broom to the one he flew in matches, and always with a glamour in place. 

He was careful. There were no specific laws or bans about broomstick racing, but places like this would be frowned upon, and if discovered, probably stamped out quickly. It was risky, but the risk was what made his blood sing, and James didn’t see why he should keep away. Nobody got hurt, it wasn’t illegal, and James had fun. Quidditch - which was what he did for a living - was about strategy and practice and skill. Racing was about going as fast and hard as possible, about reaching the finish line before everyone else. 

Someone bumped into him, and turned to apologise. They froze when they saw the symbol on James’s jacket and grinned, toasting James with a whoop and a cheer, and James couldn’t deny the thrill he got from it. It was kind of cool, being recognised without having his name attached to anything. He didn’t have a name here - that was the point, anonymity, but the patch sewn onto his jacket was a dead giveaway to who he was when he was here. 

He won nearly every race he chose to play, and people began to expect it, to cheer him on when he stepped up to the starting line, to look  _ forward  _ to it. He liked that. He wouldn’t deny it. 

The shoulder-bumper cheered again and stumbled away, blending into the roaring mass of people. The amount of magic it must have taken to keep this place invisible, inaudible, was really something. There were so many people in the crowd, and James had no doubt that it had started small, just a few beers and races between friends, but it had  _ grown _ . He couldn’t remember who had told him about it - Dave from the pub, probably, because Dave was the kind of guy who always had something new rattling around in his mouth. James didn't do this for any particular reason. He just got bored every now and again.

Music started up from the giant speakers on the stage, which was right in the middle of the track. It was a slick, fast song, and it set James’s pulse racing. He could feel it in his feet, and he knew what that meant. 

His broom flew into his hand without a second thought, and James marched onto the track amongst a crowd of about eight people, all laughing and clapping each other on the shoulder’s and taunting each other. He had raced about six of them before, but two were newcomers, and that made everything deliciously exciting. 

Screams and cheers filled the air, as deafening as the music, as they took their positions. All of them lined up along a wobbly red line in the gravel, which crunched under his boots. The air smelled like gasoline and alcohol, sharp and dangerous. James licked his lips. He was right next to the stands, one leg slung over his broom, and the screams drowned out the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears. 

He waited, breathless, for the starting spark. 

And then he caught a flash of blue out of the corner of his eye, and turned his head sharply to find Teddy Lupin leaning over the railing. He was mouthing something, and James didn’t miss the furious way his eyes were narrowed, nor the fact that his hair was turning darker by the second. 

But it didn’t matter that James didn’t miss all of that, because right then, the starting spark went off, and James kicked off on instinct, and the race began. 

*

James skidded to a breathless halt after the last lap, and the force of his stop was so great that it threw him off his broom. He rolled in mid-air and landed on his back in the gravel, grinning up at the dark, cloudy sky. He was panting and covered in sweat and his back ached, but he had won, and the crowd was loud and victorious. He felt like the night itself, dark and deep and courageous, and nothing could bring him down. 

But Teddy was going to give it a damn good try. 

His face appeared above James, and all of a sudden, James was being hauled up onto his feet. He staggered, light-headed, and Teddy didn’t let go for a second. He marched off the track with James in tow, his hood pulled up over his hair and his head ducked to hide his face. The broom hovered above the gravel, waiting for James to return, but James had the sinking feeling that he wouldn’t be coming back for a while. 

The noise of the crowd faded as they slipped around the back of the stands. There was grass here, under his feet, and the wind was colder without the full effect of the protection charms. A few people stood further down, howling with laughter as one bloke coughed and sputtered over his first cigarette, but Teddy paid them no mind. He cast a few spells to hide them from view, and then they truly were alone. 

“Take the glamour off,” he hissed, and James jolted. He’d forgotten about it, in the haze of everything. He was still shaky with adrenaline, his blood pumping through his veins. 

“How’d you even know it was me?” James said, as he dug about in his jacket pocket for his wand. It was hidden under a second lining inside the pocket, to keep it from falling out as he flew, and it took James a minute to retrieve it. When he did, he released the veil of magic obscuring his face, and watched as some of the tension leaked out of Teddy’s face. 

“I know you,” Teddy said tightly. He was standing rigidly in front of James, hands still clutching tightly at his biceps. James leaned back against the stands and let his breath come slower. 

“You saw through the glamour just because you know me?” James asked. 

“I know how you walk, and I know how you stand, and I know how you fucking fly, Jamie,” Teddy hissed. “Anyone who’s known you for more than a month could tell it was you just by the way you sat on the broom, and  _ I’ve  _ known you your whole life.”

The music was little more than a faint pulse now, threading through the crowd. James leant into it, chasing the high that was beginning to fade, which meant he leant into Teddy as well. He pressed his nose to Teddy’s collarbone, which was covered only by a thin t-shirt. He must have been freezing, because he shivered when James nuzzled him there, tugging the shirt down slightly to let the wind nip at his skin. 

“You’re an idiot,” Teddy said softly. “I mean, a real life idiot. What the fuck, Jamie?”

James smiled slightly. Even when Teddy was pissed at him, he wouldn’t call him James. It was always Jamie. 

“Hey, you don't get to be all mad,” James said. “You were here too.”

Teddy shoved him away abruptly and pressed him up against the back of the stands. The metal was cold, seeping through the leather of his jacket. James felt his eyes widen, and his mouth dropped open a little as Teddy crowded against him. He could feel heat and smell alcohol, but Teddy wasn’t drunk. He was sober and tightly wound, anxious to the core. His eyes were like ebony, dark, but not with anger. 

“I’m here because you didn’t come home this evening, and when I went down the pub to see if you were there, your mate Dave told me where you might be. Said you’d been doing this for a while now. Funny, really, because you never mentioned it to me.”

James had a feeling that he shouldn’t push this. But there was something about the look in Teddy's eyes that was niggling at him, so he pushed anyway. 

When Teddy got angry, he clammed up. He grew silent and he avoided everyone, and he stewed in his own anger until he either let it go or finally talked the problem out, usually after a lot of nudging from James, or Harry, or Draco. 

When Teddy got afraid,  _ that  _ was when he was at his most wild. Not violent,  _ never  _ violent, but wild. His thoughts ran wild and his heart raced and he jumped into action. His fear was hardly ever for himself, which irritated James to no end. 

“Funny, really, because I don't remember having to tell you every time I decide to do something,” James said, cocking his head to the left. “I mean, if we were dating, that might be different.”

Teddy’s eyes flickered at the mention of them dating. It had come up once or twice, nudged into being by well-meaning family members, and friends, and once, a very drunk James. Teddy had reasons for not dating him, most of which centered around James’s age and the fact that Teddy was practically family. 

James could see the logic behind it, but he couldn’t see the sense. James was of age now, and everyone else approved. The only thing standing in the way of them was Teddy and his reservations, and usually, James respected them. He left it alone. He hoped, but he didn’t press the issue. 

Tonight was different.

“But we aren’t dating,” James said. “I just mostly live at your flat and feed your Bowtruckle when you’re out and take you to lunch on the weekends.”

Teddy didn’t say anything. His eyes were still very dark, and James looked into them unflinchingly. 

“And I don't always come by on a Tuesday, you know, so I didn’t think to tell you that I wouldn’t be there,” James continued. “I do have a life.”

“Yeah, and I’d like it if you got to live it,” Teddy snapped. 

Ah. That explained it, Teddy's fear and his reaction and the way he was holding James, so tightly and yet so carefully all at the same time. James wondered about his next course of action for approximately three seconds. Then he lifted a hand and cupped Teddy’s cheek, and Teddy abruptly stopped snarling. His eyes darted all over James’s face, and it was like he was looking for cuts and bruises. James knew he wouldn’t find any, but he let him look anyway. People always said that James liked the attention, however he could get it, and maybe that was true, but there was really only one person whose gaze James craved. 

“I’m not hurt,” James said firmly. “I’m a little insulted, actually, that you think I’d get hurt  _ flying a broom _ , which is basically what I was born to do. I mean, that's just bloody offensive.”

“Racing a broom,” Teddy said, shaking his head. “Not flying.  _ Racing _ . There’s a pretty big difference.”

“Exactly, racing a broom,” James countered. “Not doing drugs or drinking until my liver falls out my arse. Not disappearing every day to fight Dark Wizards and muggers and murderers and abusers.”

Teddy’s eyes snapped away from his cheek to look James directly in the eyes, surprised. James pursed his lips, because he hadn’t really meant to let that part slip out. It was no secret that he was proud of Teddy, for making his way through the Auror Programme, for choosing to do good every day after seeing all the bad shit that he saw at work. And yet it  _ was  _ a secret that James was scared shitless every time he waved Teddy off out the door from his seat on the sofa, afraid that would be the last time he’d see him. He’d worried about it enough with his dad, when he was growing up, and now he had Teddy to worry about too. 

“It’s not the same,” Teddy insisted, but his gaze had softened. Instead of a vice-like grip on James’s arms, his thumbs moved in soothing circles.

“You’re right, it’s not the same. I’m not thick, I know this isn’t the safest way to spend my time, but you’re forgetting that I do this every day,” James said. “I go to work and I fly around a Quidditch Pitch with Bludgers aimed at very valuable body parts, crashing into people and being crashed into. I broke my arm last week and had it mended within a few minutes, and then I had to get back on my broom to finish the game. Quidditch is violent. I’m used to that. This is different. This is just fun, Teddy. What you do is a thousand times more terrifying.”

Teddy chewed his lip uncertainly. He was still quite close, almost nose to nose, and James still had a hand on his cheek, smoothing his thumb absent-mindedly back and forth against soft skin. Teddy always kept his face the same. He would change bits and pieces for the amusement of others, but he always went back to what he considered the original. His nose was a little long and there was stubble all around his jaw, but his skin stayed soft. James always had chapped lips and skin from flying in cold weather. 

“I never thought of it that way,” Teddy said. “You never told me you worried about that. You should have said something before now.”

“And what exactly would you have done?” James arched an eyebrow. 

“There’s a little thing called comfort that I happen to be exceptionally good at, you prat.”

James grinned, but didn’t reply. He just watched Teddy, who seemed to be calming down now as the fear ebbed away. They were still going to revisit this later, James knew, but for now, it seemed like he was going to avoid a lecture.

The music changed to something else, something faster, but still just as faint. Down the path, far enough away that they were nothing more than indistinguishable black figures, the blokes with the cigarettes starting messing about with the lighter. A bark of laughter filled the air, and then a round of cursing, and James turned back to Teddy. 

“Have you stopped freaking out yet?” James asked, and Teddy rolled his eyes, pushing James’s hand away and pressing impossibly closer instead. 

“You’re not hurt?” Teddy demanded. “You swear?”

James grinned, tongue poking out from between his teeth. “I swear all the time, just ask mum. She’s got a little swear jar full of sickles to prove it.”

“ _ Jamie _ .”

“They cushion the fucking tracks, Teddy. There are a couple of trainee Healers on stand-by, just in case. It might look edgy as anything, but it’s really just a bit of fun.”

Teddy kept staring at him, intent, until James rolled his eyes and sighed. 

“My back hurts from where I landed, and from leaning down on the broom. Other than that I’m fine.” 

Teddy narrowed his eyes, and then one hand slipped between James and the stands, ducking under his jacket to press at the base of his spine. He dragged his hand up until it was between James’s shoulder blades, and James couldn’t tell if he was feeling for abnormalities or just plain old feeling him up. He arched into the touch and hoped it was the second one. 

“Doesn’t feel like anything’s broken,” Teddy said, the words slow and long. 

James huffed, but he could feel his cheeks grow warm. “I think I’d know if my back was broken.”

“Mmm.” Teddy shifted until his hand was at the base of his spine again, and then it slipped under his t-shirt and pressed against hot skin. James inhaled sharply. “I think the whole world would know, Jamie. You don't half complain.”

“I’d have every right to complain if my  _ back  _ was broken,” James said, trying to find somewhere on Teddy he could pinch, but his plans were abruptly put on hold as Teddy’s palm dragged against his skin on it’s way back up his spine, a hot, rough slide. His other arm was braced beside James’s head, boxing him in, and his mouth was so close. 

James was perfectly aware that he could move away, tell Teddy to stop, and Teddy would be gone in a flash. He could feel the hesitation in the contact, like he was waiting for James to snap and shove him back, but James did neither of those things. He wanted this. He had been waiting for this for a while.

Now he just had to let Teddy know that. 

“Jamie?” Teddy said, and the little lilt to his voice, plus the halt in his actions made James realise that he had been quiet and still for too long. Quiet and still had never really worked for James, so he wasn’t surprised that it made Teddy nervous. 

“Just thinking about how best to kiss you,” James reassured him, and it was Teddy’s turn to go still above him. “See, I could do it really chaste and sweet, so you know I’m in love with you, or I could do it pretty fast and dirty, so you know  _ exactly  _ what you’re doing to me right now.”

Teddy did not appear to be breathing. James reached up and tapped his finger against Teddy’s bottom lip. 

“Decisions, decisions,” he said, grinning cheekily. Teddy’s hand tightened on his back and then pressed down, urging him forward until they were pressed together, toe to toe, hip to hip, and eventually, mouth to mouth.  

It was infinitely better than winning any race. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! <3


End file.
